we hate to love
by CelestialBronzeLightning
Summary: And we love to hate. But in a different world, under different circumstances, I could have loved you. I did love you. Not anymore, this is a different world now. I loved you in the other world, but in this world… In this world, I still love you. And with every second that passes, my love for you grows. But so does my hate.
1. i hate that i love you

She paced around him and her footsteps echoed through the empty chamber as she did so. A glance at his face showed his fear clearly and the sweat beaded on his forehead in tiny, shimmering beads that glistened in the merry sunlight streaming in through an out of reach window way up high.

Although the sun shone, December made itself felt with the biting cold in the room that had never seen a radiator. But she didn't seem to mind the cold at all, despite her hands being red from it.

He could see every shaky breath he took as a cloud of smoke, and somewhere a ticking clock was counting down.

"Why do you have to be so goddamn attractive?" she asked, facing away from him and admiring an old picture of a beautiful landscape on the wall instead.

Ian did not know how to answer. Everyone knew Amy had lost her mind years ago when she chose to live by herself in an almost deserted neighbourhood. She seemed emotionless and cold now, but she was as beautiful as he remembered her, but she had changed over the time he had not seen her and she looked a lot older now, but she still had the same features he had fallen for so many years ago, and he had fallen hard.

She picked up a small dagger from the table that stood close to her and ran her index finger across it lightly. A thin line of blood appeared where the sharp blade had come in contact with her skin. She smiled and watched a dark red drop of her own blood drip to the floor.

While she did this, Ian watched her curiously, as if trying to find a meaning behind her actions, but there was no rhyme or reason, at least, not that he could find.

She turned to him, the dagger still in her hand, and she looked like a cat ready to pounce. Her eyes were the same beautiful green they had always been, but they did not seem to be looking at him, or at anything. They just stared straight ahead.

"Why do you have to have those goddamn perfect features?" she asked in the same tone as she had before.

"Why do you have to be so goddamn gorgeous?" the answer shot out of his mouth before he had time to process what he was saying.

Amy laughed coldly- it was not the warm, welcoming laugh that Ian had come to love.

"You're still quite the charmer, are you not?"

A cold shiver ran down Ian's spine and he took note of how she talked without a stutter, how she answered without a blush.

His hands ached and felt numb from the cold, and his heart pounded so hard that he feared it might beat out of his chest. It beat so loud, he was almost certain Amy could hear it.

A look of satisfaction appeared on her face and he knew she must know somehow how he felt. He wasn't that obvious, was he?

"What do you mean?" he questioned.

"I mean exactly what I said," she answered, lowering the hand that held the dagger, single drops of blood still oozing from her open wound.

"It's been lonely here," she remarked, her eyes still not focusing on anything. Her voice was emotionless and her breath was slow and weak.

"You chose to live here," Ian pointed out.

"Not like this… Not…"

Ian pursed his lips. He did not know what to make of that.

"And then," he voice was low, as if she was only talking to herself. "And then the one who visits me after all these years for the first time…" her voice changed, it now sounded cold and menacing she took a step towards him. Ian wanted to take a step back, but he felt frozen in place.

"For the first time in years," she repeated and laughed a cold, forced laugh. "I am visited by a Kabra. A _Kabra_ is the one to visit me after so long," she spat with distaste. Her eyes flashed with anger and she stared directly into his with that cold, unfocused stare. "It's your fault."

"I- what?"

"It's your fault he's gone. I don't know what you did." Her voice grew louder and louder as she spoke. "You told him to go away, didn't you? Didn't you?! Look at me!"

The blood in his veins became icy. Her brother. He was dead, he had died years ago, but Amy wouldn't have any of it. She blamed him for his death, only after she had ended the search for him and after she had given up hope to see him alive. _She still blames me._

He thought that after all these years…

"And there was a place somewhere," she continued. "A place where we were happy, or could have been, you and me. But here, I realised my mission of revenge. What you did to me, what you did to _him_, that misery I must give back. _Revenge_." Her eyes flashed dangerously. She showed a side of herself Ian had never seen of her before. And yet he wanted to embrace her warmly. She looked so lost, but at the same time she knew exactly what she was doing.

Ian could barely feel his hands, they were so cold.

"Spare me this," he said. "What is it you want?"

Amy took a bold step forward so they were but an inch apart. "I would hate you," she said, disregarding her question. Ian wondered if she had registered what he had said or if she chose to ignore it.

She closed the space between them and Ian was caught by surprise as she kissed him roughly, her cold hand and the equally cold hand holding the knife pressed into his back. He could still not move his legs to step back, but would he have if he had had the option? Probably not.

She took a step away from him after a short time. "If I didn't love you. But, alas, there are certain events that are meant to happen, to avenge my brother, I must do this. He never liked you anyway. What a shame."

Quickly she drew the dagger, pierced his heart with it and he fell. She caught him in her arms and sank to her knees, cradling his head on her lap.

"If we lived in another place… curse you for being so goddamn handsome."

Ian drew in a shaky breath for the last time and stared into her eyes, her gorgeous green eyes, which had finally come into focus, and a single tear glided down her cheek.


	2. and we go down, down, together

"_Hello, Ian. As you may know, I am currently out of town… You know I wouldn't contact you unless there was no other way… This is something I think I can trust you with, you're responsible enough… I'm sure you can understand the dilemma this has put me in… They've found him … Tell her… Daniel Cahill will never be returning, and as much as it pains me, it will pain her more… Tell her, I wouldn't have the heart to do it over a phone call… This cannot wait… Tell her… Tell her… Tell Amy…"_

* * *

He stood before his mirror and stared deeply into the familiar eyes that stared back at him. _How, how?_ The words still echoed in his head, even now. _Tell her._ Tell her what? Tell her how? She was on her way over; it couldn't be too long now. _Tell her._ The seconds ticked by, and the reflection offered no answer.

Would she cry? Yes, he decided. Yes, she would cry. If Natalie had died out there, he would have cried. He would have cried for days and days, never leave his room, never ever. But would she? He had no words he could tell her, no amount of "_I'm sorry"s_ could revive him; nothing he said could bring him back. _"He would have wanted you to be happy."_ But would he really? Ian had no way of knowing what he would have wanted, not now that he was gone.

Amy will not be the same, Ian thought. They had been so close, nothing could replace him. Would she ever get over her loss? No, probably not. It would break her heart. And it broke his heart to be the one to give the news. Why was he the one who had to give her the news?

The doorbell rang. His palms were clammy. _Here we go_. One more look at the clock, one more look in the mirror. His legs moved mechanically towards the door. He reached it, _too soon_. He opened the door and invited her in, hardly aware of doing so.

"So?" her sweet voice echoed through the house and made his ears ring. He wasn't sure what to say, exactly. The only thing she knew was what he had told her hastily over the phone. _Come quick. It's important. Hurry. _She probably thought he was out of his mind. He noticed how heavily she was breathing. _She must have hurried, like I said._ He was still staring at her. She was still staring back impatiently. "Uh…" he cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

"Uh…" he said again. What was he supposed to say?

"Well?" She was impatient. Of course she was. If he didn't say anything, maybe she would leave. Maybe she would just walk out of the door and never come back to him again. He half hoped she would. Just leave. It would save both of them a lot of… A lot of what?

"If you don't hurry up I'll leave. I don't have all day, Ian."

"_No, no of course you don't." _he wanted to say.

"Your brother…" Now he had her attention. She hadn't seen her brother for months. "Your brother… Dan…"

"What _about_ my brother?"

"He's… he's dead, Amy." _Ouch._ Way to be smooth.

"You think this is funny? You think this is a game?" her voice was just louder than a whisper, but the fire in her eyes spoke a different story, as if she wanted to shout and cry.

_You idiot, Ian._

"No, no I don't." his voice came out angry. He sounded angry. He _was_ angry, he realised. Angry at her for assuming he was playing games with her, but mostly angry at himself. But she was there to yell at. To focus his anger at. "Don't think I've never lost anyone, Amy. Don't think you're the only one here… Look, I'm sorry about your brother, I am-"

"Oh, _you're_ sorry… _You_'re sorry?! Ian Kabra is sorry? No, no, let me tell you something, _Ian Kabra_," she took a step towards him and lowered her voice. "Ian Kabra is not sorry. Ian Kabra cares about _objects_, not _people_. Ian Kabra is a heartless, money-greedy _snake_."

She stepped away from him. "This," her voice grew louder and louder each passing second. "_This_ is what Ian Kabra is sorry about." In one swift motion, she knocked several antique vases off a shelf. "_This _is what Ian Kabra cares about; _this_ is where his heart, if you can even call it a heart, that is, lies. _Objects_."

She flung open the door, and when she was already halfway out, but still halfway in, she turned around to face him one last time. "I am going to find my brother. I am going to find him. And if not, you are going to pay, Ian Kabra. Although your life's worth could not even begin to rival my brother's."

And she was gone, but her smell still lingered in the air, for a while, and so did her words. _You are going to pay, Ian Kabra._ And soon even they seemed to fade, so that Amy's exact wording was lost in time, but her meaning was not. And when her words had faded, and every sign that she had been there, all that remained, all by which Ian knew that it had not been a dream, and that he would not wake up, were the smashed vases on the floor.


End file.
